I arrived happily in Graz about midday. The drive north took five hours. It rained lightly in the mountains, something welcome after being in parched Italia. The autostrada route took me first east, past the exit to Venice, then in the direction of Trieste, the eastern most Italian port on the Adriatic. I turned north before that, passing the city of Udine. The countryside was flat farmland until the Alps rose up majestically from the plains north of Udine. As I anticipated, the traffic was light on this road. It was a beautiful highway, a pleasure to drive on. The toll was a bit steep, but well worth it.
As much as I love hearing spoken Italian I have had my fill of it for now. The radio stations in Italy are horrible -- heavily commercialized and playing insipid rock music, accompanied by a steady stream of moronic chatter. And contrary to popular belief, not all Italians can sing; some of the warblers I heard on the radio would be well advised to take a few voice lessons. There was not one single classical station to be found on the Italian airwaves, whereas both Austrian Radio and the Bavarian Radio each have a station dedicated to cultural programming. Crossing into Austria I was happy to pick up OE 1 and hear an extensive interview with the great Austrian pianist Alfred Brendel, interspersed with his marvelous playing.
I pulled into a rest stop outside of Klagenfurt and was dazzled by its modernity, cleanliness and appeal. There is something to be said for being in a country with a high standard of living. Arriving in Graz it felt that I had only left a few days ago. It is like coming home. But wasn't it only yesterday that I was in Venice, baking in the Italian sun, dazzled by the magic of that city? It seems like a dream.
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